


Make Love Not War

by a_belladonna



Category: Astérix le Gaulois | Asterix the Gaul & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs/altered mental states, Fingering, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sex under the influence of a potion, nobody is doing anything they wouldn't otherwise do, period-typical attitudes to homosexuality, sort of an orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26729218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_belladonna/pseuds/a_belladonna
Summary: It sounded like a foolproof plan, getting their hands on the Gauls' magic potion. Unfortunately for the Romans, Panoramix knows how to brew more than one kind of magic potion.The two OCs can also be found in this gen-fic:First of the Season(which gives a bit more background on them)I'm using the French names for the canon characters
Relationships: Roman OC/Roman OC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Season of Kink





	Make Love Not War

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2020 Season of Kink, using the prompt "Aphrodisiacs/altered mental states" for my free kink-space.  
> Thanks to my friend J and my boss for the feedback on the non-smutty parts of the fic and lots of thanks to Delphi for the beta-read!

They sneaked quietly from bush to bush towards the palisade surrounding the village. It was a warm, sunny day in _Iunius_ and not a wind stirred. A patrol the other day had noticed that a stake had fallen out during the winter due to rot, and that said stake was near the druid's hut.  
This had led the centurion to come up with probably the most insane idea Decimus had ever heard: sneak into the village and steal the magic potion.  
Perhaps because he'd rolled his eyes at the proposal, he'd been picked as a volunteer to carry out the mission. He and Quintus. Armed with nothing but waterskins.

They weren't even allowed to wear armour for this, as that would surely hinder their movements squeezing through the hole – not to mention it could slow them down when they had to (undoubtedly) sprint back to the camp.  
He had one word for this, and that was "suicide mission" and he felt entirely too young for that.

The Gauls apparently just let weeds be weeds near the palisades. Grass, assorted flowers and nettles were growing high and wild on both sides. Especially the nettles. Assholes. Gauls and nettles in equal measures, he thought as yet another nettle brushed across his arm, leaving a trail of blisters.  
They could hear the life going on inside the village, the clang of the blacksmith's hammer, chickens clucking about, the faint laugh of children playing.  
Quintus peered cautiously through the hole while Decimus kept a look-out for anyone patrolling the palisades. After all, the Gauls must have noticed the hole, and even though they had the benefit of the potion, surely they wouldn't be so careless as to just let their palisade rot away. Would they? You never knew with these madmen.  
"He's left, the coast is clear, let's go," Quintus whispered, and they quietly squeezed through the hole. It was easier than expected, as the other stakes also were rotting and pieces fell off when they touched them, making the gap wider.

They were near the druid's hut, which was a bit away from the other huts. Nobody seemed to be around and they quickly slipped through the door.  
His knees shook and he felt his throat tighten. They were inside now. Not just inside the village, but inside the hut. Of the druid. The druid. The man possessing strange, unknown magical powers. Who knew if he could somehow sense they'd entered the hut and would soon be back with the rest of the village in tow?  
If anybody showed up now, they'd be sitting ducks and probably wouldn't get out alive.  
The hut was dark, and cooler than the air outside. Jars, flacons, pots and dried herbs were hanging from and sitting on shelves above their heads. At the back of the hut was a giant hearth with a cauldron sitting on the embers.  
"What if the cauldron's empty?" he whispered.  
"Why should it be, don't they always seem prepared to fight?" Quintus replied, although he didn't sound too sure. His breathing was also shallow and his dark eyes seemed bigger than usual.  
"You're right," Decimus said. "Now hand me your waterskins and keep a lookout."

The cauldron did actually contain a liquid. The magic potion, no doubt about that! He felt his pulse quicken as he dipped the first waterskin into the potion.  
That'll show them, he thought. Let's even the playing field a little.  
"Hurry!" Quintus whispered from his hiding place next to a window.  
"I am! I can only fill one at a time!" he hissed back. He felt a bit bad for hissing at Quintus. To be completely honest, he was glad it was Quintus who'd been picked to follow him on this mission. Quintus was, quick remarks and mischievous smiles aside, _solid_ , even if he was a bit on the slender side (which Decimus also was, to be fair). Not only because his place was next to Decimus in battle, but because he'd always been there for him since they first met. In short, a good friend, and Decimus always felt he was capable of more when he was accompanied by Quintus.  
The first couple of skins filled quickly, but as his hands gradually became more and more slippery from sweat and the potion, the skins became more and more uncooperative and it was as if they filled more and more slowly. Or perhaps it was because he feared the druid might return at any moment now.  
Finally he'd filled them all and crept over to Quintus.  
"All done. Let's go!"  
Just as he said that, they heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel path outside and they quickly dived beneath the windowsill. Cautiously peering over it they saw that it was just a random woman carrying a basket.  
At the same time the quiet of the village was interrupted by shouts and yells from the village square.  
"WHAT DID YOU CALL MY FISH?" they heard a man shout, followed by what sounded a lot like a fish hitting somebody.  
They looked at each other and nodded. Saved by the barbarians' infighting!  
Tiptoeing out of the hut they made it to the hole unseen. Squeezed themselves through, while taking care not to harm the waterskins, not caring about the nettles.  
Then they took off at a sprint towards the forest.

The centurion decidedly beamed when they reported back, showing him the filled waterskins.  
"Well done! Go get your armour, we'll attack right away! Consider it a surprise attack!"

Soon everybody had had a dose of the potion and the entire camp had lined up in formation, ready to go.  
Decimus was a little disappointed that drinking the potion hadn't felt that different to drinking any old vegetable soup, apart from a tingle that ran down his spine and out in every finger and toe.  
And now he felt restless, despite the run from the village in the midday sun. He squirmed. How come he'd never noticed exactly how much the armour tightened across his chest and torso? He was acutely aware of how his nipples brushed against the woollen tunic at every breath, and how the neckline scratched against his neck. Damn new tunic.  
A bead of sweat ran down his back and he moaned quietly. It tickled like a caress.

The centurion had climbed onto a big rock and surveyed them all.  
"Men! Today is the day we'll finally be able to report back that all of Gaul has indeed been conquered! As I look at you, my fine legionaries, all spread out for me...er, I mean, I see you ready and lusting to finally penetrate the Gaulish...d-defences..." He mopped his forehead with a cloth.  
"Is it just me, or is it awfully warm today?" he muttered, his gaze faltering a bit.

Meanwhile Decimus was surveying the guy directly in front of him. That was a _nice_ set of shoulders, he had to give him that. And the ass wasn't bad to look at either. The curve under the tunic was very...enticing. He swallowed. That was not really something he should think about any of his comrades.  
His _braccae_ began to feel tight. It was as if the tingle from previously had pooled in his stomach and groin. This was ridiculous. He'd heard of "warlust" but that didn't usually manifest like this, did it?  
It _had_ been a while since he'd last had any kind of release, meaning 'enjoyed the company of his own hand'. He hadn't fucked anyone since being stationed here, as the area was considered so uncharted and dangerous that not even the most seedy pimp felt like setting up shop in this place. And he hadn't bottomed since joining the army. _That_ behaviour was simply completely out of the question for a soldier.

Up on the stone the centurion had removed his helmet and was trying to steady his breathing.  
"I-I mean, I see your steely gazes burning with resolve and desire, I see your hands...gripping...your...firm...gripping your hard _pila_ firmly..."  
There was an impatient shuffling of feet from the rows behind Decimus and a suppressed moan from somewhere.

Decimus glanced to his left, wanting to whisper something to Quintus about the centurion's odd behaviour, but stopped. How come he'd never _really_ noticed how full and long Quintus's eyelashes were? The shade of hazel of his eyes? The curve of his nose? Not to mention, the cheekbones? He swallowed again. What was happening to him? Those thoughts were dangerous and should be kept under wrap, not manifest themselves right before a battle.  
Quintus's tongue darted out to lick his lips and Decimus stared at it. Wonder what that tongue would feel like, he thought. And the lips as well. How soft would they feel against his own?  
He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. Come _on_ , centurion, he begged. Let's get moving!

The centurion was breathing heavily now and pulling at his tunic's neckline, his helmet having dropped on the ground.  
"So, I s-say to you on this day, we'll show the enemy how to do them...I mean, what the proud sons of Rome can get up..."

There was a clatter somewhere in the ranks as two legionaries let go of their shields and _pila_ and instead embraced each other, kissing passionately.

"That's not what I meant," the centurion tried to interject, but it was drowned out in the loud clatter as more and more weapons and helmets dropped, and people started grabbing hold of each other.  
For a fleeting second Decimus thought that this went rather against the regulations, then Quintus grabbed him by the neck of his tunic and kissed him and that voice was drowned out.

That tongue was nice. Really, really nice and he moaned as Quintus grabbed his hips and pulled him closer. He shivered as his nipples rubbed harder against the fabric of the tunic and when he realised that Quintus was as hard as he was.  
They began clawing at their armour, desperate to get out of it, just like everybody else around them was. The air against his skin felt wonderful when he was finally relieved of his tunic as well. He shoved a hand down Quintus's _braccae_ and grabbed hold of his cock while Quintus leant against him, his mouth on his neck, moaning softly. It wasn't enough, not by far.  
His mind clouded by lust, he sank to his knees, pulled Quintus's _braccae_ down and took the cock in his mouth. Quintus moaned louder and grabbed Decimus's head and began fucking his mouth. Decimus sighed and just let it happen. With a jolt he realised that he'd deep down wished for Quintus to do this to him for years. Hanging on Quintus's hips with one arm, he stroked himself with his other hand.

He was vaguely aware what was going on around him as bodies brushed against his own and he could hear the sound of armour being discarded, but his eyes were closed and his main focus was on the cock in his mouth. The hands tightened their grip on his hair and Quintus's hips jerked as his load filled Decimus's mouth. Swallowing, he pulled Quintus to his knees and pulled the _braccae_ completely off of him. They kissed again, until he turned Quintus around, spreading his legs. Quintus complied eagerly. Running his hands over the inviting ass Decimus had secretly admired over the years, he wondered why they hadn't thought of doing this before. Judging by the wanton way Quintus presented himself, they'd both wanted to for awhile. Spitting in his hand he began preparing Quintus. This was most definitely not his first time, Decimus noticed.  
He picked up the pace while taking in the sight of Quintus on all fours in front of him, writhing and moaning.  
Somebody grabbed him from behind and the unmistakable hardness of another man's cock pressed against his own ass and he felt somebody's lips and breathing against his ear. Looking down, he didn't immediately recognise the arm across his chest. Closing his eyes again, he stopped thinking and just gave in to the sensations of the tight ass around his cock, the hardness pressed against his own buttocks and the other man's heavy breathing against his neck. It didn't take long for the man behind him to come, and semen splattered against Decimus's skin. Not long after he came as well, which both felt like a release and as if it only staved off things for a little while.  
However, it did clear his mind somewhat, and he looked around. He was surrounded by naked, writhing bodies. People were kissing, sucking, fucking almost desperately. Fingers and cocks were definitely put to good use. Clothing, armour, weapons, standards were strewn about, completely disregarded.  
The centurion was bent over the rock, getting fucked by one of the bigger guys while hungrily sucking the optio's cock.  
He giggled at the sight which was strangely arousing at the same time.  
Whatever it was that was happening to him (and he suspected more and more that the potion had something to do with it), it could be best compared to an experience he'd had in the Ocean up here.  
Last year they had all been ordered out to swim, in order to keep up their swimming skills. He had been standing in the surf, about to wade further out into the sea, when suddenly a wave had crashed over him, taking him by surprise, sweeping him off his feet.  
For a terrifying moment he had felt the sand getting sucked out from under his feet and a feeling of weightlessness as the wave lifted him up. It was almost the same sense of unreal weightlessness and a feeling of losing your footing, combined with a surge of lust as he'd never experienced it before, that he felt now.

Someone moved up behind him, placing their hand on his hip. The cock brushed against the small of his back and he leant back into the body, closing his eyes and letting the other man penetrate him with his spit-slicked cock.  
A mouth descended upon his own, and he kissed hungrily back while taking hold of the other cock he felt poking against his stomach and began stroking it, letting himself get completely lost in the seemingly bottomless wave of lust and pleasure that was flooding him and everybody else.

He completely lost track of the time and also of the bodies that passed by him. Suddenly Quintus showed up in his vision again.  
"Come with me," he said, grabbing Decimus's arm, pulling him to his feet.  
"Come where?" Decimus asked, yet nevertheless followed him, leaving the mass of writhing bodies. He noticed the sun had moved a fair bit and that the shadows were getting longer. The camp was bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun.

They were headed for the tent they occupied with six others.  
"Why did you take me here?" he asked.  
"The Gauls have obviously played a rather malicious prank on us," Quintus answered. "Doesn't mean we can't fuck under slightly more comfortable conditions."  
They kissed, and he could feel the wave's ripples again as they embraced.  
He was surprised it was still possible to feel any kind of arousal, but the potion must have been very effective.  
They sank down on his straw mattress, still kissing. This time it seemed like it was possible for them to draw out the pleasure, exploring each other's mouths. He ran his fingers all over Quintus's cheekbones, jaw, neck, shoulders. The skin was warm from the sun, and he hungrily kissed his way across the collarbones.  
His hands moved further down, across Quintus's ribcage, his stomach, his hips, holding onto him.  
His own cock was trapped between his body and Quintus's hip, and he couldn't help but rock his hips against the ridge of Quintus's hip as he felt himself grow hard. Wrapping his hand around Quintus's cock, he felt him getting harder under his touch.  
Soon all that mattered was getting release. A hand travelled down his back, down to his ass. Arching into the touch, he moaned when he felt fingers slick with oil penetrate him and he welcomed it. Lowering himself onto Quintus's cock, he closed his eyes in pleasure, only to open them again and look down at Quintus once he was fully in place. Their eyes met, and even though his mind felt clouded by that all-consuming lust which seemed to come from both within him and from the potion, it was as if there was some kind of understanding between them. Quintus's hands caressed their way up to his hips, and Decimus leant back, supporting himself on Quintus's legs, before beginning to ride him in earnest.  
He could feel his orgasm build again, slower this time, but stronger. The pleasure was centring at one particular point inside him, a point he'd sometimes been made aware of with other partners, but never like this before. Gyrating his hips one last time he came, came like he had never come before, convulsing and almost sobbing as the wave of pleasure seemed to rise and rise and rise until it finally came crashing down.

**

A wrinkled old hand carefully pushed the camp's gates open. Panoramix peered inside, mirth crinkling the corners of his eyes as he took in the sight of the heap of naked, exhausted legionaries lying in the middle of the camp.  
"That'll teach them to keep their hands off other people's magic potions," he chuckled, then gently pulled the gate closed again.  
"Now let's get that palisade repaired."

**

When Decimus woke up the next morning, he felt as if he'd been on a bender, which made no sense at all as he hadn't been properly drunk since being stationed here in the middle of the Armorican nowhere. But his head hurt, the morning light hurt, and his mouth was as dry as the Sahara. His body also felt stiff and sore, but not like usual, not like when he'd been beaten up by the Gauls.  
And why was he lying naked, partially on the floor of the tent, partially on his mattress, halfway covered with a blanket...and pressed up against an equally naked Quintus?!  
Even though the light hurt, his eyes widened in shock as memories of the previous day replayed in his mind. Most of it was a blur, but he could easily deduce that he'd let himself be used in a way no Roman soldier – let alone one old enough to shave - should ever let himself be used.  
A small relief seemed to be that so had everybody else in the camp.

He looked down at the still sleeping Quintus. He had to admit, though. The guy really did have the loveliest profile.


End file.
